Office Boy
by ficnic
Summary: AU. Luke is the worst personal assistant EVAH. Lucky Noah, who's stuck with him.


Disclaimer: I do not own anything ATWT does.

Notes: AU. Written for a prompt by **natashaodwalla** at the Luke/Noah Prompt Meme that requested a boss man Noah and a bitchy, averse-to-taking-orders Luke.

* * *

_Monday_

_This SUCKS_. Luke fielded his own thought for the twelve-hundredth time this hour as he sat on the floor of his new boss' office. Admittedly, some of the suckage came through the ping-pong of his expectations. He'd started the day expecting the worst.

The facts were:

1. Luke was 19 years old.  
2. Luke was expelled from Oakdale U for rigging the student government election in his favor.  
3. Luke's family summarily cut off his finances, and his dad decreed that he could only continue to live at home if he a.) got a job, b.) paid rent, and c.) began to exhibit some responsibility (which apparently, a and b were meant to inspire).

Luke had never had a job apart from a summer internship at WOAK. There, Kim Hughes had essentially played indulgent grandmother while allowing Luke and Maddie to film whatever caught their interest for more than three minutes. Kim would somehow cobble their aimless adventures into something usable for short news segments on Oakdale's youth.

Luke had heard enough griping from friends to realize that kind of freedom was almost never afforded in the workplace. When Holden nixed Lucinda and Lily's desire to pull strings to score Luke a job, the young man was stuck filling out endless applications, and competing for crap jobs he didn't want with more accomplished kids he couldn't stand. He had only scored this temp job as a PA because the candidate hired didn't show; he was the only reject who'd been home to take the call, and available to come in with no notice.

Such was the inauspicious beginning of Luke's employment with Mayer Media. Any delusions of glamour had been quickly eradicated during the course of his interview, in which it had been revealed that the majority of the job involved ad sales. Needless to say, he didn't even _want_this stupid job, but it had to be better than sitting at home under Holden's expectant eye, awaiting the inevitable "How's the job hunt going?" missiles that would intermittently fire in Luke's direction.

Luke's expectations could not have been lower as he was escorted to meet his boss. Thanks to gossip he'd heard among other applicants while awaiting his interview, Luke figured he had the guy's number. Noah Mayer was apparently some sort of nerdboy prodigy, having graduated high school at 16, college at 20, and immediately thereafter taking the helm of the Oakdale branch of his ex-Army colonel father's regional media conglomerate.

Luke wasn't excited about following orders from some spoiled little rich kid.

When he entered the office and met _Noah Mayer_, however, Luke's preconceptions shifted so sharply, he may have given his brain whiplash. Noah Mayer greeted him with a genuine smile as he shook Luke's hand, then laughed (_oh my God, he's even more beautiful when he laughs_) when Luke failed to remember to release his palm. Noah was the farthest thing from a nerd Luke had ever encountered.

And whether or not he was spoiled and rich, Noah Mayer definitely wasn't _little_. Luke's ever-present confidence seemed to have gone AWOL as he looked - _up_, a novelty for him – into the most deliciously blue eyes, made all the more striking by the darkness of the black hair contrasting them. Something about being smaller than this Greek god made Luke simultaneously lose all language ability, yet manage to instantaneously construct a pornographic daydream that involved Noah, a miniscule loincloth, and himself being happily restrained beneath items 1 and 2.

When Noah dislodged his hand and welcomed Luke to the company, all friendliness and warmth and _gahhh_, Luke knew taking this job would be the best move he'd ever made. Noah was young, vibrant, and relaxed; he even told Luke to use his first name. Luke's new boss (and hopefully more) would give him fun, exciting tasks, and be _amazing _to work for.

Three hours later, Noah Mayer was the spawn of Satan, sent to deceive Luke with his _pleasefuckme _hotness, only to make Luke's life hell on Earth.

When he'd met the man, Luke's wildest best-case scenario had involved being on his knees on this carpet – not sitting criss-crossed amidst a deluge of incomprehensible paperwork, helpfully organized into chaotically nonsensical files. Within minutes of his arrival, Luke had been tasked by his new slavedriver to bring some sort of order to the batshit. Which was _impossible_; whoever had last touched these files was a sadistic asshole purposely setting up the next schmuck to fail spectacularly.

But the worst thing, by far, was Noah Mayer. With his devil-in-stud's-clothing appearance, any objection Luke normally would've lodged about being dumped on with what had to be the entire company's workload was effectively rendered silent. The simple fact was, Luke couldn't string more than two words together in the man's presence.

By lunchtime he'd decided: Luke would _not _be back tomorrow.

_Tuesday_

He was back. In his defense, he hadn't had time to compose a resignation letter. It would be rude not to show up with no explanation. And once he got there, Luke couldn't really explain, because again, he couldn't _speak_.

So he logged Day Two on the Paper Mountain of Evil. Noah's instructions were to group the ad sale pitches and match them to the demographically appropriate publication. Or something like that.

Luke didn't really know what that meant, but he'd been literally unable to ask, of course. As a result, he came up with a system of his own, and was actually proud to have completed the project at the end of the day. He stood in front of Noah's desk as his boss examined his work, awaiting the praise his organizational genius was due.

After what seemed like a long time (maybe Noah _wasn't _that smart – it shouldn't have taken long to discern Luke's system), Noah spoke. "So… let me make sure I have this right. These files."

Noah extended a hand, indicating the neatly assembled folders on his desk, continuing, "You've arranged them all… alphabetically?"

Defensively, Luke stood up a little straighter. Something in the tone of Noah's voice indicated less than the impressed reaction Luke had expected. His question sounded more like – disbelief.

"Yes," Luke confirmed.

"All right," Noah began. "I think maybe I didn't explain this well, and that's my fault. What I need is for the ad proposals to be matched with the publications for which they are most appropriate. And therefore, likely to increase sales."

His nose out of joint at what sounded like condescension, Luke found his voice. "Right – and this way, you'll be able to find everything easily. If the title starts with A, you just look in the A folder, and the B in the B, and the C-"

"Luke, Luke," Noah interrupted, visibly pained. "I don't want to _look_ for things. These files need to be ready for the sales agents to use, _now_." Noah pinched the bridge of his nose. The move infuriated Luke further that his boss seemed to be treating him like a child – and not a terribly bright one, at that.

"They're very easy to use-"

"Please, just stop, and listen. I'll show you what I mean. Here, your A folder: you can't put this ad pitch in _that _magazine. You're telling my agents to place an ad for Adults Only magazine in an issue of AARP. Do you see the problem there?"

Luke's mouth dropped open. No, he hadn't seen that. He hadn't realized that's what he'd been suggesting _at all_.

"As I told you, magazines count on Mayer Media to place their ads in the most demographically effective publications. If we don't make the right selections, our clients don't see their sales go up. And _this_ ad - it's unlikely it would have gotten past their publisher, but if someone there was asleep on the job and that ad went in…," Noah shook his head, clearly troubled by the implications. "Luke, that would be a _disaster _for this company. We would bleed clients for who knows how long?"

Noah's voice had remained remarkably even through the lecture, even considering the serious nature of Luke's gaffe. Still, Luke felt like the biggest foolever born. His voice was barely a whisper. "I'm sorry."

Noah regarded Luke for a moment, then seemed to make a decision. "It's all right. I'm every bit as much to blame. We clearly have a communication problem here," Noah sighed. "I'm sorry if I don't seem approachable, or made you feel like you couldn't ask questions. I _want_ you to tell me when you don't understand something, so I can explain it better until you do. From now on, I'll try harder to outline things more clearly, and if you have any questions about what I mean, you'll _ask _them. Deal?"

Luke looked up from beneath his lashes to meet Noah's eyes. "Deal," he agreed softly. Luke was at least relieved he managed to hold back the tears that had threatened at his massive embarrassment. But despite their "deal", Luke would definitely not be back tomorrow.

_Wednesday_

He was back. He'd been too exhausted by yesterday's ordeal to bother with a resignation letter last night. So he would tell Noah he was quitting at the end of their workday.

It would be easy, now; Luke was annoyed like hell with his patronizing boss. Luke knew he'd made the mother of all mistakes yesterday, but he _had _worked hard in trying to impress Noah. That apparently meant nothing, since Luke was now tasked with mindless assignments he suspected even Ethan could pull off.

The fact that Luke wasn't pulling them off was even more galling, then. But how could he? As Noah's personal assistant, Luke shared an office with him for eight hours a day.

Okay, nine, counting lunchtime. Noah had ordered in on Monday. When Luke had stayed in the office to make further headway on what would become his Waterloo, Noah had generously shared his own lunch.

On Tuesday, Noah ordered in for them both. And again today. It was like Luke's boss _knew _that his proximity made Luke's brain short-circuit.

What kind of jerk saddles you with busywork, then sits you at a desk positioned within three feet of his own to insure you can't get a damn thing done right? The most minute task took Luke three times as long as it should have. Noah's stupid face and voice and _scent _drove Luke to distraction.

He only even accepted the offer of another lunch courtesy of Noah because he didn't want his boss to see him leave the room with a hard-on. _Damn you, Noah Mayer_. Luke would most certainly not be back tomorrow.

_Thursday_

He was back. Luke was starting to think he was some kind of masochist. He hated himself and the world and Noah Mayer, most of all.

But once again, Luke found himself seated across from the other man, sharing a working lunch in which almost no work was accomplished. Instead, Noah regaled Luke with funny stories of his teen years, and getting into trouble with whichever co-conspirators were available on whatever Army base he happened to find himself at. Luke felt like he'd spent 45 minutes of the hour laughing, and he probably had.

Yet, Luke sensed something else. Beneath the tales of misbegotten adventure, Luke perceived a loneliness in Noah derived from a rootless childhood. Having grown up with more siblings and cousins and lifelong friends than he could count, it was difficult to wrap his mind around Noah's upbringing as an only child, constantly uprooted.

Luke could only imagine that kind of isolation. It was little wonder the guy had spent so much time studying, and ended up accelerating to adulthood. As Luke got back to fucking up his appallingly pointless paperwork, however, he vowed not to let empathy for Noah change his plans: this job sucked, and there was no way in hell Luke would be back tomorrow.

_Friday_

He was back. Of course he was. Noah Mayer was crack cocaine in human form, and Luke was a strung-out little junkie, enduring any indignity for his next hit.

This, however, wasn't just _any _indignity. As happened every day in this hellhole (all right, often due to Luke's own fuckup-ery), a problem had sprung up. It was bring-your-kids-to-work day at Mayer Media.

The day had included tours of the various departments for the visiting children, to be capped off with Storytime with Ricky the Reading Rabbit. Noah explained that Ricky had been created back when the company had started, as a way to encourage kids to read. Unfortunately, he then also informed Luke that their go-to "Ricky" had gone home sick, and they would need someone else to don the costume and take over the mascot's duties.

The kids had met Noah when they'd arrived, and toured all the departments. So tucked away in Noah's office, Luke was the only adult they hadn't already seen. Noah felt his portrayal of Ricky would be most believable, since the kids had not previously encountered Luke.

To his credit, Luke spared the children from his ire at being a grown man forced to wear a giant lilac-colored rabbit costume (_lilac, for God's sake!_). Having plenty of storytime experience under his belt with his younger siblings, Luke threw himself into the books he read, giving each character a distinctive voice and performing each tale with flair. In turn, the kids laughed, squealed, and applauded his every move.

Luke was surprised to find that for the first time, he'd actually done something well at his job. He was part-gratified, part-horrified at the revelation. After all, didn't his storytime prowess indicate the only kind of job he could hope to succeed at was in a theme park?

Feeling somewhat discouraged, Luke groaned when Noah called him back to their – no, _Noah's_- office. He had expected to at least get the chance to change before receiving his next assignment. When he entered the room, however, Luke's stomach dropped further still.

Noah was leaning against his desk, looking as unabashedly sexy as ever. What was _not_ so appealing was the man standing facing him, holding Noah in what seemed to Luke an _intimate _embrace. Noah moved to stand when he noticed Luke in the doorway.

"Luke! I want you to meet someone," Noah began. "This is Dan, from our Chicago office. Dan, this is Luke. He's been my right-hand man this week."

Dan smugly extended a hand to take Luke's… paw. Maybe it wasn't smugly. Maybe it just seemed that way because Dan was undeniably handsome, and visibly into Noah, and Noah (who Luke hadn't been able to peg at all with his normally-reliant gaydar) seemed to like Dan, too.

"You were a big hit at storytime!"

_Yes, you fucking bastard._ "I was just pinch-hitting. That's not my normal job," Luke justified, opting to defend himself instead of saying what he _really _wanted to.

"No one could tell; you could go pro!" Dan said it affably, as if telling a man he was a born mascot was a compliment. _Mother fucking bastard._

"I'll pass," Luke answered snippily. "It was nice meeting you, but I need to go and change. If that's all right, Mister Mayer."

He didn't await a reply. Luke gathered up his work clothes and headed for the restroom. Where for five minutes he changed, and for 35 minutes, he failed to emerge.

He was _mortified_. Despite his efforts to prevent it and deny it, Luke had fallen for his boss - hard. He'd behaved like a total spazz all week, messing up his assignments left and right, tripping over his own feet, spilling Noah's coffee, and petrified to look his boss in the eye for fear he'd catch on to Luke's feelings.

Now, his tortuous week concluded with Luke having to meet Noah's horrible stud boyfriend while dressed _in a bunny costume_. It was like the world itself was collectively screaming at Luke: NOAH MAYER IS OUT OF YOUR LEAGUE. Any hopes Luke had harbored despite himself were crushed under the knowledge that the sentiment was true.

After a world of cringing, Luke finally exited the men's room. It was past working hours now, and the office was abandoned but for the security guard in the front lobby. Luke grabbed his things and planned to head for home.

He stopped, though, at the copy room. The idea formed, and it was a stupid one. Humiliation and heartache rarely combined to create a _good _idea.

Luke had no desire to rehash the week via resignation letter. And he had no capacity to face Noah again, let alone tell him he was quitting. So Luke opted for the most childish – but more importantly, _doable_- choice he could think up.

It was a bit trickier than he'd envisioned. He assumed he could just pull his pants down, hop up, press "1", and _voila! _The business of this was more difficult than advertised, though.

For one thing, the copier was pretty tall. Even with Luke's height, he couldn't lift himself up there with his pants around his knees. So, he kicked them off, and pushed a rolling chair to use as a stepstool.

Once seated, pushing the button was simple enough. He retrieved the copy, deeming it an acceptable facsimile of his flattened ass. Taking a pen from his pocket, he wrote one word across each cheek in big, block letters.

I

QUIT

When he placed _this_ resignation on Noah's desk, it would get the message across: _this job sucks monkey balls dipped in elephant piss_. Luke took a moment to admire his handiwork.

Which was, naturally, how Noah discovered him. Pantless, holding a photocopy of his own ass, with his bare bottom still resting atop the Toshiba E Studio Model 12002L. At first, Luke didn't notice Noah's entrance.

"Ahem," Noah supplied helpfully.

Luke's eyes shot up from the page, to find his boss standing a few feet from him – and _holding Luke's pants_. Immediately, Luke jumped down from the copier. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten about the chair he'd placed in front of it, and it upended Luke sufficiently to send him careening towards the floor, landing headfirst in a graceless heap.

"Luke!" Noah rushed to aid him, unthinkingly trying to help him up from the ground.

"Stop!" Luke shook Noah off, even more shamed than he had been at any previous point in the week. "I need my pants!"

"Oh! Here," Noah replied, handing Luke his slacks. Luke quickly angled away from Noah, pulling on his clothes before standing. When he turned back, he was further mortified to see Noah with Luke's… resignation letter… in hand.

"So… I guess you're quitting?" Luke was incredulous to see a bemused smile form across Noah's face.

"You think this is funny?" Would there be no end to Luke's torture? Now Noah was laughing at him.

"Yes… well, no. I mean, in a way," Noah rambled. Suddenly, Luke realized something. It was the first time he'd seen Noah less than confident. In fact, Noah seemed downright _flustered_.

"The thing is," Noah began again, "it's convenient. It saves me from having to fire you."

Luke balked, suddenly furious. "You were gonna _fire_ me? After everything I went through this week? After all the crap I took? I even dressed up in a damn _bunny costume _for you!"

"For the kids," Noah corrected.

"No – for you!" Luke was too angry to care what he was saying. "I like kids as much as the next guy, but do you think I dress up as a rodent to entertain them in my spare time? I did it to make _you _happy!"

"Rabbits aren't rodents," Noah said, then paused for a few millennia. "And… I get that you were trying to make the boss happy; jobs aren't easy to come by-"

"Not the boss - YOU. The kid who ordered 100 pizzas pretending to be the base commander and got grounded for the rest of your natural life. You, the guy who sent the mail clerk a dozen roses to mark a month since she stopped smoking. You, who's sweeter and funnier and smarter than anybody as good-looking as you has any right to be. You, dammit! _You-_"

Luke's semi-hysterical babble was silenced by the hard press of Noah's mouth to his own. Even while his brain struggled to catch up to this latest turn of events, his lips got with the program quite nicely. God, had he ever been kissed like _this_?

Of course not. Mere mortals didn't kiss like this. Noah really was a sex god sent from heaven – or maybe from hell, sent to corrupt him.

He'd succeeded, if the sudden tightness in Luke's pants was any indication. Luke didn't care if he seemed desperate as he grabbed Noah's shirt, pulling him close – revealingly so. As Noah noted the sudden hardness against him, he pulled back from Luke.

"I'm sorry," Luke stammered. "I just thought…"

"You forgot the buckle," Noah responded. Confused, Luke looked down. "No, I didn't."

Noah's hands moved from Luke's waist to the clasp of his belt, and opened it. "Yes, you did."

Luke's eyes widened as Noah closed in again, his breath hot in Luke's ear. "You forgot the zip." He waited, allowing Luke the time to refuse, if that was what he wanted.

Luke didn't.

Luke subsequently "forgot" to put his pants on at all, thanks to Noah crouching to the floor to pull them off. With the task completed, Noah remained on his knees in front of Luke. He looked up, establishing an unbreakable eye contact as his mouth moved forward, kissing the inside of Luke's upper thigh.

He continued to tease and Luke arched backwards, his back pressing against his trusted ally, the Toshiba 12002L. If he didn't break this poor copier because of Noah, it would be some kind of miracle. When Noah finally took Luke into his hot mouth, Luke decided he'd happily spend his week's wages to replace the machine; _this _was worth it.

Luke quickly lost any semblance of restraint, clutching Noah's hair and plunging himself into those soft, wet lips over and over again. Impressively, Noah managed not to gag despite the frenzied onslaught of Luke's assault. If anything, he seemed to thrive on Luke's enflamed passion, grasping Luke's hips and driving his mouth over Luke all the way, moaning in excited contentment the entire time.

Finally, Luke could hold on no longer. He felt his whole being explode, and crumble into a few million pieces. He sank boneless and contented into Noah's embrace, certain if he could freeze any single moment of his entire life to remain within forever, _this _would be it.

Following a few moments of luxuriating in the afterglow of the most intense climax he had ever experienced, Luke couldn't help stifle a quiet giggle as he refastened his pants.

"What?" Noah asked as he stroked Luke's blonde hair, his face buried in the crook of Luke's neck.

"I can't believe you fired me," Luke replied.

"I didn't," Noah protested. "You _quit_!"

"Splitting hairs, Noah."

"Maybe," Noah agreed. "But – and I say this with complete affection, which I think I've proven – you are the worst PA I could ever have. The _worst_."

Luke slapped Noah's chest lightly. Dignity required some sort of objection, after all. "There had to be _somebody _worse."

"Nope," Noah quickly came back, then lifted his head to meet Luke's eyes. "Well, maybe. You saw the mess the last one left. So, she might've been worse. But… not worse for _me_."

Luke recoiled. "What the hell does _that _mean? And why did you just blow me if I'm so bad for you-"

"Luke," Noah quickly interjected. "_You_ aren't bad for me. Actually, _you_ are pretty much perfect for me. But, as a PA – no. The _worst_."

"You're lucky you're cute, because you're really mean."

Noah laughed. "Think about it. The work I gave you the last couple of days – no offense, but you know it was crap. Just the least important thing I could find for you to do while you were here all day."

"Offense taken!" Luke had known it was true, but still. "Why are you even into me if you think I'm such an idiot?"

"You mean, apart from you being smoking hot?" Noah could see Luke wasn't placated by the joke – very much – and hastily went on. "Come on, I don't think that. Not exactly."

Luke had heard enough. He scrambled to get up from the floor and salvage whatever miniscule remnant of his pride he could muster. As much as he liked – more than liked – Noah, he couldn't be with someone who didn't respect him.

"Luke, wait," Noah implored. "Let me finish. We're _both _idiots - at least around each other."

"You _really _should stop talking. You're making it worse."

"Then hear me out! The work you turned in today… let's just say it was up to your usual standard. Complete crap."

Luke couldn't argue that, but for Noah to point it out wasn't scoring him points now. Apparently, Noah discerned as much. He took Luke's hand, directed him to the rolling chair, and pulled another close to sit facing him.

"What I'm trying to say… badly… is, we can't work with each other. Do you know why I wanted you to meet Dan?"

Dan. With Noah's lips wrapped tightly around his cock, Luke had forgotten all about _Dan_. "Because he's your boyfriend?"

"What? _No_," Noah answered, then proceeded to laugh. "Dan's my friend."

"That was a pretty friendly embrace I walked in on-"

"No. _No_. Not like you're thinking. Dan's straight – well I think mostly, though between you and me I suspect he dabbles on the bi side. But not with _me_." Noah laughed again, as if the more he entertained the thought, the more ludicrous it became.

"Why is it funny?"

"I don't know how to explain it. Dan's my friend, but more than that. He's the only friend who stayed in touch when my dad and I transferred away. I guess you could say Dan is my go-to guy. I can see how it might've looked, and it's really hard to explain unless you have a friend who you can count on to toast your successes, or help hide the body."

"Oh my God," Luke said. The light bulb clicked on. "Dan's your _Casey_."

Noah was confused at first, but finally read Luke's expression correctly. "Casey. That's your Dan?"

"Yes," Luke confirmed, his heart suddenly buoyant at the knowledge that the perceived threat wasn't one at all. "So, you wanted to tell me why you want me to meet him?"

"Right! Well first off, I wanted him to meet the guy I like."

"Shit," Luke cursed. "He must think I'm an ass!"

"Luckily, Dan's pretty perceptive. He thought you were a _jealous _ass. Which gave me hope I wasn't seeing what I wanted to see, when I kinda thought you might like me."

"I kinda _do _like you," Luke murmured.

"I like you, too. More than I've liked anybody _ever_, really. Should I say that this soon?"

"You definitely should," Luke instructed. "It'll make me feel better when _I _say something too big too soon. With you, I can totally see that happening."

"I can't wait," Noah assured, beaming at the thought. "Anyway, being my personal assistant wasn't a good fit for you, just like having you as my PA wasn't good for me. Well, it was _great_ for _me _- the company, not so much."

"What does that mean?" Had Luke screwed up something so tremendously that he'd actually hurt the company in the span of one week?

"It means, Dan was sent down here today by my father, who knew that something was up thanks to the shit work I've produced all week long."

Luke digested this information. The whole time that Luke had been frustrated and distracted to the point of incompetence, he had been having the exact same effect on the cool, confident _Noah_? "It can't have been as bad as anything I did."

"No, worse. For yesterday's conference call, I completely forgot to read the report I was supposed to review before the meeting. And I addressed two of our biggest shareholders by the wrong names. This morning, I submitted figures to the home office that were off by a few hundred thousand dollars."

"Oh." _Oh, YES_. Luke was elated to learn Noah had it every bit as bad for him as he had it for Noah.

"And the other reason," Noah continued, trying to stay on track to finish what he was telling Luke. "Our Chicago office doesn't primarily deal with ad sales. They're our publishing arm of the company, and Dan heads that department. He was impressed with your performance as 'Ricky the Rabbit'."

"Could you ask him to wipe that memory from his brain? And could you do the same? God knows I'm trying to," Luke groused.

"Definitely not. We both noticed the same thing. You didn't just stick to the stories you read. You embellished each of them, making them more exciting for the kids. And then you made up two or three stories just based on what the kids told you about themselves – and they were _good_, Luke. I thought so, but I'm not an expert in the field. Dan _is_, and I could see the dollar signs twinkle in his eyes before we even got back to my office. He wants you to write a children's book for Mayer Publishing."

"A… what? _Me?_" Luke was flabbergasted. In a million years, he couldn't have imagined that his brief stint as Ricky the Rabbit would serve as an impromptu book pitch. "I mean, I'm not a writer-"

"Bullshit," Noah cut in. "Anyone who can think of a story that detailed, that entrances an audience like you did with those kids, is _unquestionably _a writer."

"I do write, at home. Not for anything – just because I get an idea, and want to see where it takes me."

"It will take you to your first book, if you agree," Noah said. "I promise you, you'll get a fair contract. And just think, you can work from home in your pajamas..."

Luke chuckled. "My dad would _love _that. He probably wouldn't believe I had a real job."

"You live at home?" At Luke reddening's face, Noah quickly continued as he pulled a key free from his keychain. "Here. If you need a place to write with some peace and quiet – well obviously, I'm _here _all day. So you could use my apartment in the daytime. Or even at night, if you wanted," Noah went on. "I won't make any noise. Unless you want me to. I mean, if you wanted to stay over, or anything-"

"Yes."

"Yes? To what?"

Luke smiled, pecking Noah's lips with his own, then lowering to his knees, seeking to bring Noah even half the pleasure he'd given Luke. "When it comes to you, Noah Mayer? Yes, to _everything_."

There was no doubt about it, Luke thought as he made quick work of Noah's belt and zipper. Whatever hell he'd experienced in this building, it housed Noah for at least forty hours a week. As Luke hungrily tasted Noah for the very first time, he realized one incontrovertible fact.

Luke Snyder would most _definitely_ be back.


End file.
